final curtain
by astarisms
Summary: They can't see their own horizons anymore. End of Days AU. Posted on tumblr 2 years ago.


_"_ _Oh Lord, Oh Lord, what have I done?_

 _I've fallen in love with a man on the run."_

* * *

It was dark, and while it was a clear and cloudless night and she could see all the stars if she just looked straight up, Natalie couldn't take her eyes off of the horizon behind them.

There, the sky was orange. And while she was usually all for sunsets, this wasn't the beautiful blending of yellows and reds she loved. This was cloudy and crackling and smoky. She guessed it was beautiful in its own, morbid right, but whenever she glanced back at it, all she could think of was the screams and moans of despair and the pain and fear they'd left behind, that she swore she could still hear despite having escaped the burning city with Lucifer that morning.

She looked away quickly, turning back to said man, who she hadn't noticed had stopped. She nearly ran into him, and he reached out to steady her, dark brows furrowed as he looked down at her.

"You alright?" She forced a bright smile to her face, pushing down her own remorse and the rising guilt.

"Mm, yup!" she confirmed, though she felt anything but. He frowned, the creases on his forehead deepening unhappily.

"What have I told you about lying to me, kid?"

Despite the seriousness of the question, she relaxed and her smile became a fraction less forced at the familiarity.

"That you're the king of lies and I'm terrible at it," she said promptly, even a bit teasingly, but he didn't lighten up. She sighed, and her smile dropped completely. "I'm fine. I promise. It's just… It's a lot to take in, y'know?"

He stared down at her for a minute longer, and instead of replying to her, he dropped his hands from her arms and turned away.

"We'll stop here for tonight. Get some sleep, Natalie." He started walking away, off into the trees, and Natalie started.

"Wait! Where are you going?" He stopped, and looked back at her.

"I'm not going far. I'll be back soon." It was in those few words, sighed with a wariness and no typical, Lucifer-esque edge, that she realized just how tired he was. He didn't need sleep, but the apocalypse was obviously wearing on him as much, if not more, than it was her.

"O-Okay," she said, but he was already gone. He needed a moment alone. She could understand that. She sighed, and it was a shaky sound, before she gathered herself and slipped her backpack off. It didn't have much - a couple of changes of clothes, a small first aid kit, a few bottles of water and some energy bars. She found a spot between two trees that was relatively shaded and smooth, and propped the bag against the base of the trunk.

She laid down, and for several minutes she shifted in an attempt to get comfortable. When she finally found a position that wasn't exactly ideal but would leave her with the least amount of aches and pains in the morning, she closed her eyes.

Her peace didn't last long before those thoughts and the tangle of emotions she had mostly repressed since this whole mess had started consumed her. Guilt and shame that, try as she might, she hadn't been able to stop this from happening. Anguish over the lives that had been needlessly lost, the families and cities that had been destroyed in the crossfire.

And beneath that, bubbling up from where she had kept it under tighter bonds, locked away in the back of her mind, was a worry and terror so prominent it made her blood run cold, made her stomach churn and twist uneasily, made her heart stop and then race at ungodly speeds.

They were losing. She knew they were losing. Sooner or later, they were both going to die.

And with the way things had been going recently, it looked like sooner rather than later. They had been running since Lucifer had determined there was no way for him and his followers to win.

She knew he didn't like it. Knew he would rather go down fighting than to run, would rather die than have anyone call him a coward, but he had assured her that he wasn't going to leave her to fend for herself. For all that she'd tried to stop the apocalypse, she _had_ helped him, and he knew that some of the angels would be less than forgiving if they came across her after he was gone.

And so here they were. Closer to Death everyday, and yet still pretending like they had a chance. Like maybe, despite the hopelessness of it all, there was the possibility that both of them would get out of this unscathed.

Abandoning all thoughts of sleep, Natalie shot up, looking around desperately for some sort of distraction as tears pricked her eyes. She pushed them back, blinking against them as she climbed to her feet.

She couldn't let Lucifer find her like this. She needed to calm down, she needed to go to sleep. She knew they had another long day ahead of them tomorrow, and staying up worrying about the future wasn't going to help anything now.

Scanning the area around her through the dim glow - _don't think about it, don't think about it_ \- she came up empty with any useful distractions. Twisting her hair nervously through her fingers, she racked her brain for a solution, before her eyes fell upon her bag.

She sat back down, on her knees this time, and grabbed for it. She unzipped it and dumped the contents on the ground, sorting through it and organizing it.

And when that didn't take too long, she did it again. She soon got fed up with the process though, as it occupied her hands more than her mind. Just as she zipped it closed for the last time - this time having wrapped her clothes around the harder things so it would make a more comfortable pillow - a twig snapped behind her.

She jumped, spinning around quicker than she thought possible. She relaxed when she saw it was just Lucifer, though his eyes were narrowed.

"The hell are you doing, kid? I thought I told you to go to sleep." She rocked back on her heels.

"Yeah, I know, but…"

"But? We gotta get out of here as soon as possible. We can't get very far if you're dragging your feet."

"I know, I know," she said, trying to placate him. "I just," she faltered, pausing for a moment. "I - I just…"

He frowned, and moved over to crouch beside her, "Natalie?"

"I can't."

"What?"

"Sleep. I can't sleep. I started thinking and-"

"Oh, no," he said dryly, and she stopped, looking up at him in surprise, before laughing, albeit a bit wetly.

"Buttface."

"It's what I do."

She smiled weakly at him, grateful for his attempt, then looked down, staring absently at the frayed straps of her backpack. He sighed, knowing exactly what she was thinking about. It hadn't exactly been easy for him to not think about it, either.

"What can I do, kid?" Her eyes shot up again, confused.

"What do you mean?"

"To help. To get your mind off of it so you can go to sleep. How can I help?"

"O…Oh! I - no, it's okay, I… I'll be fine."

He scowled, "Don't give me that bullshit. I'm offering my help and you're not going to take it?"

"Well…" she hesitated, then sat back against the tree trunk. "Can you just… I dunno, talk to me?"

"I am talking to you."

"I mean, like… Tell me stories. Ask me questions. Just talk to me. Give me something else to think about. Please."

He thought about her request. It was simple enough, a pattern they had easily fallen into back in her room less than a year ago every time there was a thunderstorm. Sometimes he would tell her a story, but over the months, stories had stopped and they would just talk. He might have told her one of his shorter stories, and something in it would usually spark a memory of her own that she would tell him about.

He had stopped getting irritated when she interrupted him a long time ago, coming to prefer her passionate ramblings more than the sound of his own voice.

He shifted into a more comfortable position, sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of her.

"Anything specific you had in mind?"

"No. Just, anything."

He leaned back, bracing his arms on the ground behind him, as he racked his mind for a story he had yet to tell her.

"Okay, kid, so this one time…"

She quickly became enraptured in it, impending death and destruction and the weight of all the casualties she had caused fading away. She was always surprised at how good of a storyteller he was, how he spent time worldbuilding and paid attention to details that others would have easily overlooked. When he told her stories, it felt like she was there with him, in that time, in that place.

But of course, being as she was, with so many things to say and too much excitement to contain it, she cut in several times with her own inputs. And eventually, the story was forgotten completely.

She didn't remember when they had moved so they were both leaning against the tree, didn't remember slumping against his arm as the tale was gradually replaced by back and forth questions, by her own stories pulled from the farthest reaches of her memory.

"One time my mom put me in dance. I don't remember it very well, but my dad has videos." He was silent, but she knew he was listening. She laughed a little and continued, "I was so bad. Later, when I got into softball, he used to joke that I would have to pitch at my wedding instead of dance."

It had been harmless. She hadn't even cared about getting married, not really. But the possibility had been _there_. And now it wasn't. There was nothing in the future for her - for _them_ \- except death, final and, hopefully, swift.

Tears sprung to her eyes again, hours of work and distractions coming unraveled in seconds, in the wake of one unfortunate thought. Lucifer felt more than heard her breath hitch. He looked down at her, and made his decision. It would be worth it if she stopped crying, if she could relax and go to sleep afterwards.

He stood, so suddenly she almost fell over, and when she righted herself and looked up in surprise, she was confused to see his hand extended to her.

"Lucifer… W-What?" she asked, blinking to clear the blur of unshed tears.

"Come on." Her brows furrowed, but she reached up place her hand in his, anyways.

"What are we doing?"

He pulled her to her feet, and gave a little tug on her hand to pull her into him, until they were flush against one another. She squeaked in surprise and tilted her head back so she was able to meet his eyes.

"What-?"

"You wanted a dance?" Her eyes widened. Her breath left her in a whoosh.

"A… dance?"

"Yes, a dance. Isn't that what you were just talking about?" he asked, the edge returning to his voice, and at this point Natalie could recognize it was because he was a little embarrassed.

"…Yeah. That sounds great," she said, her voice nothing more than a whisper. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," he grumbled, and she had to bite back a weak smile. A dance wasn't exactly what she had been worried about, but she had a feeling he knew that. A dance was only a way to get her mind off of what talking couldn't.

The hand that wasn't holding hers found her waist. His touch was warm, even through her t-shirt. Her heart fluttered nervously as she reached up, her own hand settling on his shoulder, the way she'd seen in movies.

He began moving them in small, slow circles then, something that fell somewhere between a waltz and the kind of languid, swaying dance the kids at school had been doing at prom.

It was relaxing, and after a minute or two, she laid her head on his chest, watching the shadows pass as they moved. He didn't say anything, but she felt the shift, the hot breath that ruffled her hair as he looked down at the top of her head.

She closed her eyes, leaning into him more than supporting her own weight at this point, the heat that he radiated tugging on her exhaustion.

"I didn't know you danced," she murmured, almost drowsily.

"…I don't."

And it was just two little words. It was just two words, and they shouldn't have jolted her completely awake like they did. They shouldn't have held such power over her, shouldn't have made her breath catch or her heart skip a beat but they _did_ , because she had been around him long enough, she knew him well enough, to know what he really meant.

…I don't, but I will for you. I am for you.

It wasn't even a _surprise_ , not really. They had been through hell and back together, pun not intended. She had known he cared for her. Despite all his surliness, he didn't exactly try to hide it. But it had been such a long day, and she had already been too emotional for her own good, so she couldn't help when more tears burned in her eyes.

She turned her head, burying her face in his chest, squeezing her eyes shut tightly. He stiffened in surprise, his feet stilling.

"…Are you crying?" When she didn't respond, he drew back, pulling his hand from hers. He used it instead to tilt her head up so he could take a good look at her. "Natalie?"

She opened her eyes, and at the sight of her tears, Lucifer's eyes grew wide. She exhaled shakily, and then she smiled at him, all teary eyes and snotty nose.

"Sorry," she said, and her voice broke. She sniffled and shook her head free of his hand, before raising her arm to swipe at her face with her sleeve. "I - I don't know why - sorry."

"What are you apologizing for?"

"Crying. I cry-" she hiccuped a little pathetically, "-too much." She gave a nervous, mangled little laugh, looking up at Lucifer. He was looking at her, his expression somewhere between pity and bemusement. "What?"

He just shook his head, leaning down a little closer to her.

"Honestly," he started, "I'm surprised you haven't cried more. This is the end of the world." Her smile dropped.

"…I know," she whispered, the fact of that weighing on her heavily, the lingering inevitability of Death, coming for both of them. And sooner more likely than later, it would find them.

She would die, and he… He would cease to exist.

She couldn't handle the thought of that. She staggered, falling into him, and wrapped her arms around him as tight as she could.

"Natalie?!"

"Lucifer, I can't - I can't lose you!"

"What the hell-?"

"You can stop pretending like everything is going to be a-alright! I know it's not. I know we're - _I'm_ going to die. And _you_ …" She choked on a sob, hiding her face in his chest again.

She couldn't bear to think about what would happen to him. There would be no afterlife for him. There wouldn't even be a body left, when Death was through with him. When he 'died'… there would be nothing left of him to indicate he had ever existed at all.

He grabbed the tops of her arms, pushing her away from him again, a little more harshly than he'd intended.

"What are you going on about? We're not going to die."

" _Liar_ ," she rasped angrily. "You are _such_ a _liar_!"

He ducked his head until he was level with her. He softened when he saw the wild, desperate despair in her eyes, an expression he had never seen before, not on her. She had always been so cheerful, so infuriatingly optimistic.

He reached up to cup her face, wiping her tears away with his thumb. She stilled, looking at him with those wide, frantic eyes, and her lower lip quivered.

"Not about this," he said quietly, never looking anywhere but her so she would know that, for once, he was telling the truth. "I wouldn't lie about something like this. We're not going to die."

She reached up, grabbing his wrists as he swiped more tears away, more gentle than she'd ever seen him. She didn't know if she believed him yet, but… He seemed honest. He seemed serious.

They stood like that for what felt like hours, her sniffling and hiccuping like a child and him wiping her tears away as they fell, not another word passing between them. She didn't know when he'd started leaning closer, couldn't tell you when she'd closed her eyes and just let it happen, but then his lips were brushing against hers, and even just that feather-light touch had her trembling, overwhelmed and consumed by emotions as she was.

He pulled back, unsure, his warm breath ghosting over her mouth, and she dropped his wrists and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him back to her. This time, there was no hesitation, no uncertainty. This time, there was only soft lips and the smell of dirt and pine, there was only his warm hands on her face and the heat from his touch.

It was slow and it was sweet and it was more than she ever could have imagined it being…

But it wasn't enough.

She rose on her toes, pressing herself closer to him, twisting her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. His tongue coaxed her mouth open as his hands moved to her waist, wrapping around her in order to pull against him, closer and closer, until there wasn't an inch of space left between them.

It was still soft, still tender and - and _caring_ , if she did say so herself, but there was this underlying urgency to it, a passion that boiled and rolled throughout every part of her, begging to be released. He deepened the kiss further and she moaned quietly, melting in his arms. His fingers flexed around her skin, and he fought down the urge to drag her closer when she was already as close as she could get.

And then there were lips on her neck, and her head swam, and she was raising her arms so he could pull her shirt off, and her pants came next, and she hardly felt the bite of the cool autumn air with the warmth of his body so close to hers and the heat of the flames on the horizon.

She slid her hands from his neck down his chest, feeling the rumble of his growl, until she reached the knot in his toga. She undid it with trembling fingers, until the tattered fabric fluttered to the ground.

His hands were everywhere as they sank down to the forest floor, and she kept hers in his hair, tugging on the strands to encourage him, or on his back, caressing the scars that matched her own. She arched into his touch, and he ate every moan, every gasp, every cry of pleasure off of her lips before returning to his sensory assault on her body.

When they finally came together, she pulled him back up, kissing him again, fire burning low in her stomach, white hot and extending to every piece of her. She grasped the back of his head as each breath became shorter and every push and pull of his hips against hers sent sparks of ecstasy through her.

When it became too much for her, she gasped and shuddered and cried out "Lucifer!", nails carving small crescent moons into his back. The way his name rolled off her tongue, shouted in rapture, sent him over the edge with her.

He rolled off of her, onto the ground beside her. Still breathing hard, she turned over and tucked herself against his side, wiggling closer to him until her head rested on his chest. He wrapped an arm around her, staring up at the canopy of trees as he tried to catch his own breath.

They didn't say anything else. They didn't need to.

As their breaths began to even out and they laid together silently under the burning sky, miles away from the ruins of a city that had been whole just that morning, Natalie felt herself finally, _finally_ , drifting off to sleep.

But as reality faded, as the world and the apocalypse and the lives lost and their own fast-coming fate fell away and the only things she knew were the feeling of being held in his arms and the warmth of his body, she recalled what he'd said just before their kiss.

"We're not going to die… I wouldn't lie about something like this…"

And she decided then, in her half-asleep state, that she _didn't_ believe him. She didn't believe him at all. If he had truly believed what he had been saying, none of this would have happened. He wouldn't have felt the need to give her such a personal, such an intimate and profound goodbye.

Because that was what it had been, right? A goodbye. That was most certainly what it had felt like. But, why was she surprised?

What else should she have expected from the King of Lies himself, but one final lie?

xxx

It was the middle of winter, when the crunch of fallen leaves was no longer satisfying, but remorseful. It was that point where those who survived were reluctant to go outside and brace the fierce sting of the cold. It was that point where the lack of color and sound and life began to drive people to the brink of insanity.

It was the middle of winter when there was a scream, in the dark of one particularly ferociously frigid night. The sound was shrill, and loud, and it echoed throughout the forest and off the surrounding mountains. The agony in it chilled the few who heard it more than bitter, icy air did.

And then - a growl, somehow louder than the scream. Almost inhuman, but too full of dark fury and excruciating grief to be considered animal, and - it cut off abruptly. And then, just as quickly as the silence had been broken, it returned, more deafening than before.

No one left their homes that night, for fear of what they would find. But later, when those brave few who dared to venture towards the source, they had only ever found scorched earth and a small backpack. When opened, they found the backpack contained nothing significant but a handful of energy bars, a change of clothes, and, hidden deep in the innermost pocket, a faded picture of a young redheaded girl and a horned man, who despite his efforts to look surly, seemed to be enjoying himself anyways.

* * *

 _"Oh Lord, Oh Lord, I'm begging you please,_

 _Don't take that sinner from me._

 _Don't take that sinner from me…"_


End file.
